In the Dark of the Night
by Sha Feferi
Summary: When Ronnie wakes up from a nightmare, Jack is there to comfort her.
1. Chapter 1

_Just a little piece, inspired by tonight's Eastenders, when Jack said to Ronnie something about her not sleeping well. In my opinion, there hasn't been nearly enough post-reveal stuff, and this is an attempt to remedy it. Hope you enjoy - you know where the review button is if you do!_

**Disclaimer - Unfortunately, none of the characters are mine!**

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It was amazing really, that it managed to wake him. It was so quiet, so unobtrusive, and he was usually such a heavy sleeper. Maybe subconsciously he had known that something was wrong, that he needed to be awake. Or maybe that was a load of rubbish, and he needed to stop being so sentimental. Love really does make fools of us all, he thought wryly, as he rolled over towards the source of the noise.

Whatever the reason, he was glad he was awake. He had suspected for some time now that she wasn't sleeping well, had watched the dark circles grow under her eyes, watched her retreat back into herself as she felt herself become more vulnerable. He hated it. After all she'd been through, she deserved the comfort of a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear. So why did she keep refusing that comfort?

He had barely seen her cry since the revelation, but she was crying now. He could hear the tiny whimpering breaths and they sent a pang through him. It was late, and it was still dark outside, but from the moonlight streaming through the window, he could tell that she was still asleep, blonde air splayed angelically on the pillow. But it was not a peaceful sleep, she was shifting and muttering, and now, with a quickly-stifled cry, her blue eyes snapped open. Seeing him watching her, she swallowed hard.

"Sorry Jack. Did I wake you up?"

"No." It wasn't exactly a lie, and she didn't need anything else to beat herself up over. "I was awake anyway. Bad dream?"

For a moment, she looked as if she might deny it, but then she nodded , eyes full of pain.

"Want to talk about it?"

Her defences rose at once, he could almost see her building a wall to keep him out. "No. I'm fine. I just need a glass of water."

She made to get out of bed, but he reached out and caught her wrist with his good arm. She struggled against him, but he resisted. She wasn't running away from him again.

"No, Ron. You've been bottling this up long enough. You need to talk about it, and I want to listen. Please...it might help?"

Her gaze met his, just for a moment, and he saw the total vulnerability there. Then she exploded.

"Help? You want to help? How can you? You can't take him away, no-one can take him away, he's always going to be there! He's there all the time, whenever I close my eyes, waiting! Waiting to hurt me again! He ruins everything, even now he's dead! I'm pregnant, Jack, and I can't be happy because I'm just waiting for him to ruin it! I can't do it, Jack, I can't take it, I can't..."

Her voice cracked on a sob, her face crumpled. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him. Her face buried in his chest, she began to sob with a violence that terrified him. Whenever she had cried before, it had been somehow controlled, still Ronnie Mitchell, Ice Queen, despite the display of emotion. But this was raw pain, this was unstoppable and uncontrollable, this was exactly what she needed. For a long time, he did nothing but let her know he was there, gently running his fingers through her hair, rubbing her back soothingly. When the tears finally subsided, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Listen to me, Ron, I know he's still haunting you, and I know how scary that must be, but you've got to believe he can't hurt you any more. I won't let him ruin this, I promise."

But inside, he was scared. Because he knew how much was at stake here, and how devastated she would be if he couldn't keep his promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you everyone for the amazing reviews! I didn't expect such a great response to this! I did originally plan for it to be a one-shot, but you inspired me to write some more, I'm not sure how many parts it'll be in the end, but I have at least three more after this one. Hope you like!**

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They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. But she didn't have to wait for death, she got to relive her worst moments every night in her dreams. Sometimes, in the aftermath, she wondered if there were any good times to remember.

_The look on her father's face as he bore down on her. The feeling of his hands, exploring places no father should ever be allowed to touch. The last specks of glitter settling in the snow globe, the cold feeling of dread as she knew what would happen next. The pitiful wailing of her baby as she was taken from her forever. The screech of brakes as Danielle's body flipped over the car. The sharp stab of pain, the knowledge that she had, yet again, lost her chance to be a mum. Her father's voice, echoing over and over. "Honestly V, did you really think you'd make a good mother?...Did you really think you'd make a good mother?...Did you really think you'd make a good mother?...Did you really think...?"_

Her eyes snapped open, she was shaking, her cheeks damp with tears. It really was ridiculous, she had the same dream every night, you'd think she'd get used to it. But somehow she never did. No matter how much she might be able to kid herself during the day that everything was alright, that she was getting over it, at night it was an entirely different story. At night there was nothing to stop her dad creeping into her thoughts, hurting her even more.

Dashing more tears off her cheeks, she sat up, swung her legs out of bed. Silently, she made her way into the kitchen, and sat at the table, staring into space. She didn't want to wake him up again. There was no denying that she'd appreciated the comfort, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't deserve it. That the more she talked about it , the closer he'd come to realising that he didn't want to be with her. Who would? She was dirty, tainted, damaged goods, everything that Archie had always delighted in calling her. Drawing attention to this risked losing him. And if that happened, she just wouldn't be able to cope.

So that was why, when Jack limped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his stick, expecting her to spill her soul to him again, she refused to drop her defences. It was self-preservation really. And besides, everyone expected her to be alright by now, surely that meant she was meant to be. Maybe she was just being silly, clinging on to the memories for so long. Maybe she was even being silly thinking that Jack really wanted to talk about it. Maybe he wanted her to be fine too, was growing irritated with the constant histrionics. Yes, it was for both their goods really. So why, when he had stomped back to their room, did it feel more like she was ruining their relationship than saving it?


	3. Chapter 3

_OK, so this chapter isn't very much longer than the last two, but the next chapter will be longer, I promise. I'm also alternating Ronnie and Jack's perspectives (as much as you can do that while writing in the third person!) so the next chapter will be Ronnie again. Hope you like..._

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She worked late the next few nights, and he wasn't entirely sure if she was going to bed when she got in. In fact, he wasn't convinced at all, more than once he woke in the night to find himself alone in the bed, and one night he found her asleep on the sofa, magazine open on her chest in what had obviously been a futile attempt to stay awake. And his attempts to help her were equally futile, while he could sometimes coax her into napping during the day (it really wasn't that hard, she was so exhausted that if she sat down and relaxed for more than about five minutes her eyelids began to droop), any suggestion that they might talk about it was met with a frosty glare. Finally, after waking one morning to find the bed not only cold, but the sheets painstakingly mussed so that it looked like she'd slept there, he decided to take action. That night, when she crept in at some ridiculous hour of the morning, he was waiting.

"What are you doing up?" Her tone was sharp, and the look in her eyes was unreadable. She knew exactly what he was doing, and was fortifying her defences.

"Waiting for you. I thought maybe we could talk."

"Jack..." Her voice wasn't sharp anymore, it was flat and defeated-sounding, and he hated that, that she'd lost all her energy, her spirit. "Can we not? I'm too tired to do all of this now."

"Really? You're tired? Well it might help if you actually went to bed once in a while!" He hadn't meant to snap, really he hadn't, but he loved her so much, and he couldn't stand watching her do this to herself. She was killing herself right in front of his eyes, and it was killing him too. And it was just so frustrating, trying to help her only to be pushed away over and over again.

"I do go to bed!" She snapped back, though she must have known that she was fooling no-one. She was just so bloody stubborn.

"Yeah alright." He retorted, once again goaded by her refusal to let him in. "As late as possible, and for as little time as possible! Have you even looked in the mirror recently, seen what you're doing to yourself? And it's not just you you're hurting is it?"

There was silence. His words hung in the air, leaden and unforgivable. Too late he realised their significance. The look of devastation flashed through her eyes (before she buried it under layers of ice) and he realised what he'd said.

"Ron...I...I didn't mean..."

And the worst part was, he really hadn't. He had meant her, not the baby. But he knew what she would be thinking, just as sure as he knew that he'd just screwed everything up. It was too late now, she was leaving, picking up her keys and her bag and stalking from the flat. In the doorway, she turned to him, her eyes blazing with a cold fire.

"Well, Jack, why don't you try dreaming about your father..." She paused, faltering on the word. "...hurting you every night, and then see how much you want to go to sleep?"

With that she was gone, slamming the door behind her, and Jack knew two things. One, that she wouldn't be coming back, not without a lot of persuasion. And two, that neither or them would be getting any sleep that night.


End file.
